


A Piece of Yourself

by Comicsohwhyohwhy



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Brothers, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, angst about wings, season 3 of Lucifer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 23:23:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13375248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comicsohwhyohwhy/pseuds/Comicsohwhyohwhy
Summary: Lucifer’s wings are back and he doesn’t deal well with it. Two times he asks for help and Amenadiel refuses him. The third time, Amenadiel ends up wishing he had helped.





	A Piece of Yourself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laire (laireshi)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/gifts).



> This is a birthday present for the lovely [laire](http://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi)! I think we talked about some of that plot idea on chat at some point - well, here it is, finally some Lucifer / Amenadiel-angst! I hope it somewhat makes up for me laughing at how Lucifer ruined you :)  
> This contains spoilers for season 3 of Lucifer, more precisely regarding Marcus Pierce.

The first time Lucifer comes to him, Amenadiel bristles with rage.

His brother seems all nonchalant. “Do me a favour, bro?”

When Amenadiel doesn’t immediately reply, Lucifer becomes somewhat more subdued. He gestures to his back. “Please help me cut off those things. You can keep them if you want, to stare at them and wish for your own pair to grow back, or something. What do you say, chop chop?”

Cut off his brother’s wings, when all he wishes for with a burning desperation is having his own set back. Cut off what his brother was never able to appreciate for what it is – a sign of being chosen by their father, all over again, all his defiance notwithstanding. Lucifer is the one who always seems to be forgiven, while Amenadiel, faithful soldier of God for aeons, has lost all the credit he once thought he possessed.

The anger is white-hot within him as he answers and he doesn’t quite manage to keep it out of his voice. “You seem to have managed quite well yourself so far. I don’t see why you would need my help now. I’m only a lowly fallen angel, as you like to remind me.”

Lucifer smiles, and it’s close to being intentionally cruel, as if he enjoyed remembering how he abased Amenadiel. And Amenadiel hasn’t forgotten his brother’s last outburst, how Lucifer tried to drive him away with words that cut to Amenadiel’s very soul, more true than even Azrael’s blade could ever be.

Maybe Lucifer only asks for help now to spite Amenadiel. Maybe he enjoys his brother’s torment and just wants to rub it in – he has wings, and he doesn’t want them, while Amenadiel lacks his own pair and remains marked by the disgrace into which he has fallen. And cutting off the wings their Father seems to have given back to Lucifer – it would only cement that disgrace.

“Fallen or not fallen, I don’t seem to be able to reach around my back as well as I’d like to. Do me the favour, will you?” Lucifer still sounds exasperatingly relaxed, as if he was asking his brother to hand him an apple, or something of the sort (then again, apples and Lucifer have never been an innocent combination).

Amenadiel clenches his jaw, and instead of answering his brother, he turns to leave. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lucifer raise his hands to stop him. But his brother doesn’t say a word, and when the door of the elevator finally closes behind him, Amenadiel’s fist collides with the wall. There’s a sharp, burning sensation, but the pain won’t bring back his wings.

And it won’t relieve him of the task his Father has given him – to keep Lucifer company, to support him, to make him find his way back to the light.

If only his brother weren’t so infuriatingly lost in his misguided quest for independence. If only he could see all the gifts he was given – his wings, a life on earth, and a brother who loves him so much it sometimes hurts.

But that love doesn’t stop Amenadiel from also hating him with a burning passion.

********

The second time Lucifer comes to him, Amenadiel greets him with disbelief. Again? Has his brother learnt nothing? Apparently he is even more proud and self-centered than Amenadiel gives him credit for, if he _still_ believes that Amenadiel might help him.

“Brother, I know you don’t want to help me. But I’ve run out of options. Please cut my wings off. Rest assured that they aren’t a gift by our Father. So you have nothing to fear for your less-than-angelic condition.” Lucifer’s voice is soft this time, less assertive, and he seems earnest.

It almost gives Amenadiel pause how uncharacteristic the show of humility is, but the demand itself isn’t – Lucifer apparently can’t resist the urge to taunt Amenadiel. It should be enough that Amenadiel has fallen while Lucifer gets restored to his angelic form, but of course it isn’t. Lucifer has to rub it in, make Amenadiel suffer, probably harbouring the delusion that he can make Amenadiel question his Father’s plan for him, a plan Lucifer never believed in (or if he did, he took care never to admit it).

But when Amenadiel refuses again, his voice sounding almost airy to his own ears, as if he’s learnt not to care (it’s a lie), there’s something flickering behind Lucifer’s eyes, and it’s dangerously close to desperation. Amenadiel stops in his tracks.

“Luci, what’s up?”

Lucifer lets out air in a long sigh. “I told you, brother. I seem unable to cut this iteration of the wings off, pesky things.”

Amenadiel’s laugh sounds bitter to his own ears. “And what’s so terrible about that, Luci? After all, you are _chosen_. Why not embrace it! I am done with your pathetic adolescent rebellion against father. A great opposing force to him you are, if you can’t even take responsibility for the things that are happening to you.”

Lucifer opens his mouth to retort, but he closes it again without having said anything. Utter resignation is etched into his features, and Amenadiel almost feels sorry for his harsh words.

But then Lucifer does the only thing he knows how to do – he lashes out. In one moment, his entire demeanour changes. Where there was sadness and weariness, there’s fire and anger and venom and Amenadiel can’t stop himself from taking a step back from his brother. In moments like this, he vividly remembers who his brother is, in the eyes of the world – a hellish punisher who will burn anyone and anything coming too close to him, and Amenadiel has definitely ventured too close.

“Don’t you get it? I don’t _want_ to be chosen! What a pathetic life, an emissary of an old man who toys with things he doesn’t even truly understand! Do you think watching you for aeons has given me a taste for it? So go, brother, and sulk in some corner. Wallow in how meaningless you are while I take care of my business.”

The words hurt, as is intended, and Amenadiel turns to leave. The last thing he sees is Lucifer wrapping his arms around himself as if he were cold, shoulders drawn up to his ears. Then the doors slide shut and Amenadiel slowly lets out the breath he’d been holding.

Sometimes Amenadiel thinks he doesn’t understand Lucifer at all.

*******

When they dispose of the wings, left on the floor like garbage, Linda almost doesn’t flinch. But he can tell by the tight set of her mouth that she’s upset.

Once all the remains of the divinity thrust upon Lucifer are neatly packed in garbage bags, she shakes her head slightly.

“This must be so painful. Cutting off a piece of yourself over and over. Lucifer made it seem like no big deal, but… ouch.”

Amenadiel replies immediately, and there’s the familiar righteous anger, burning deep within him. It gives his voice a steadiness he doesn’t quite feel.

“We all have pain that we hide, Linda. That we’re just not ready to share with the world.”

When they are done, and the wings burn before them like a fire some vagabonds might light to keep warm, Amenadiel feels empty inside. He has revealed too much to Linda, more than he had wanted to, and he has shown weakness that doesn’t befit a soldier of God. He used to feel so sure of himself; now almost no minute goes by when he doesn’t crave feeling that way again.

And maybe for the first time, he really wonders what it must be like for Lucifer, who always seems so very confident, but who isn’t, not really. Amenadiel thinks beyond the immediate jealousy, the burning need to have what Lucifer casts aside as if it were nothing. Linda is right – this terrible act must hurt so much, carving out a piece of yourself again and again. Maybe this isn’t just a teenager’s rebellion that Lucifer never quite got over.

Lucifer hates himself, that Amenadiel always knew. He blames himself for many things, not least of all the destruction of their happy heavenly family (even though Amenadiel knows that’s not true – Mother and Father were broken long before Lucifer came along and deepened the fault lines running through their lot). But to willingly hurt himself like that?

Maybe Amenadiel was foolish, to not listen to him last time they spoke. Maybe he shouldn’t have focussed on Lucifer’s outrageous request, a request that seemed destined to make Amenadiel fall even lower. Instead, he should have asked Lucifer _why_ he kept on trying to get rid of the wings. And how he put up with the pain of cutting away a piece of himself every night.

Amenadiel might not have a physical part of himself that he seeks to destroy – but he knows about hating himself so much he just wants to disappear, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left.

It seems the two of them might not be as different as Amenadiel would like to think.

******

The third time, it isn’t Lucifer who comes to find Amenadiel, holed up in his brother’s apartment day and night because he isn’t even capable of getting a place of his own since he came to earth and lost his powers. Instead, it is Amenadiel who finds him, driven by guilt and a craving to understand what’s really going on beneath his brother’s sleek and scary exterior.

When the doors of the elevator to Lucifer’s apartment slide open, everything is dark. Amenadiel lets out a frustrated sigh, but maybe his brother is just asleep (unlikely) or having fun with some company in the dark (much more likely).

“Lucifer?”

When there’s no reply, Amenadiel ventures into the living room. His steps echo on the shiny floor, and things really are too quiet for Lucifer to be around. His brother is probably out, picking up attractive strangers and bringing them back to the apartment late at night, when Amenadiel tries to sleep on the upper floor and can’t help but overhear the sweet nothings his brother whispers to men and women, who reply with voices slurred by the pleasures Lucifer brings them (Amenadiel tries very hard to tell himself he isn’t jealous).

Without really thinking, Amenadiel steps into his brother’s bedroom and aims for the doors to the balcony. He craves a cigarette – a vice that he would never admit to having fallen prey to in Lucifer’s presence.

Amenadiel frowns when he feels a cold gust of air on his face. The doors to the balcony are already open. Maybe his brother has just forgotten to close them, even though it seems unlike him. But then Amenadiel hears heavy breathing, and there’s a shadow on the floor. Amenadiel feels himself go cold all over when his brain processes what he sees.

Lucifer is lying there, face down, upper body exposed. His back is a complete mess, angry red stripes all over, and his wings look half-torn and bloody and altogether messed up. They aren’t their usual beautiful white colour anymore, and Amenadiel can tell that that’s not just because of the blood smeared all over and around his brother. Instead, Lucifer’s wings look somewhere between an angry red and black. There’s a smashed bottle of alcohol close to where his brother lies. Everything smells both putrid and antiseptic at the same time.

When Amenadiel turns Lucifer around and scoops him up into his arms, not paying attention to the mess he makes of himself, one of Maze’s daggers falls out of his brother’s limp hands. Lucifer’s eyelids flutter, but he doesn’t open his eyes. His face looks gaunt in the pale moonlight and when Amenadiel smoothes back his hair, it is sweat-drenched. Lucifer’s breathing is laboured and shallow and Amenadiel feels his own breath stutter in his chest.

What has he done.

Amenadiel forces down the panic that threatens to overwhelm him. He needs to help his brother, but he doesn’t even know what has happened. One thing is obvious though – Lucifer’s wings are somehow to blame for the state he is in. Maybe his brother had been right all along and the restitution of his wings wasn’t a divine act, but something far more sinister.

There’s one thing he could do, but Amenadiel hesitates, carding his hand through his brother’s hair once more. Lucifer’s breath hitches, but then his eyes finally flutter open, if only a little. There’s a dim sense of recognition in them when they fall on Amenadiel.

“Brother?”

Amenadiel breathes out in relief upon hearing Lucifer’s voice. But it’s weak, and the hand that Lucifer raises to grab Amenadiel’s own stutters halfway, then falls back down at his side again. Lucifer clearly wants to say something else, but apparently he doesn’t have the strength. Instead, he slowly turns his head, until he looks right at the dagger that has fallen from his own hand.

Amenadiel closes his eyes, but he knows it’s no good – this won’t go away. Only he can make it go away, and it seems like he has no choice.

He grabs the dagger, and he gets to work.

When he cuts into the skin where the wings meet Lucifer’s back, his brother cries out. Amenadiel presses his lips into a thin line and keeps going, even when Lucifer is trashing in his arms, clearly not quite aware of what is happening.

At some point, Lucifer starts crying, and Amenadiel hears Chloe’s name, then Uriel’s, and maybe he even calls for their Father, but Amenadiel isn’t sure, because by then, all he really hears is a low buzzing in his own ears, a buzzing that drowns everything out, this room, his brother’s cries, and knowledge of the terrible deed he is committing.

When it is done, Lucifer lies in his arms, limp, and Amenadiel feels a weight slowly lift from his chest. Lucifer has stopped crying, and Amenadiel carefully wipes his face. His brother is quiet now, breathing evenly.

But now, Amenadiel can’t stop his own tears from falling.

****

Amenadiel puts Lucifer to bed, in his luscious suite that Amenadiel always thought was cut out for pleasure, and not the pain his brother was just in (and maybe has been in for days or weeks). He sits by Lucifer’s bedside, and he doesn’t know how long it takes until Lucifer finally opens his eyes.

“So you’ve decided to help me with those cursed things after all? Make up your mind, brother, Father wouldn’t like a fickle servant.”

Lucifer’s voice still sounds weak, but there’s a faint challenge in the words, and Amenadiel almost laughs out loud with relief. Lucifer challenging him feels familiar, and good. This is so much better than the shadow of his brother he’d had in his arms before, barely recognisable as the charismatic angel that Lucifer had always been.

Amenadiel smiles and shakes his head. “Why didn’t you tell me those things were… I don’t know, poisoning you?”

Lucifer actually rolls his eyes, and the gesture is so exasperatingly familiar that Amenadiel really does laugh out loud this time. “Seriously? I kept telling you to help me cut those things off! Do you think I like the idea of my own brother cutting off body parts of mine? Should have given you an inkling of the situation being dire, now, shouldn’t it.”

Amenadiel ignores the guilt rising up in him. “I thought you were very well able to do this yourself. After all, I disposed of the previous iterations of your wings.”

Lucifer flinches – maybe he hadn’t known about Amenadiel’s nightly pursuits. Then he casts his eyes down. “I was, but this time, something went wrong. I don’t know what happened to my wings, but I… couldn’t reach my back anymore, everything hurt too much.”

It’s one of the most honest things that Lucifer has said to him in a long while because it displays real vulnerability, and Amenadiel puts his hand over Lucifer’s. “I am sorry, brother, I failed you.”

Lucifer scoffs. “Don’t give yourself too much credit. You’re not the one who gave me those things back, after all.”

Amenadiel frowns. “But who did?”

Lucifer raises his eyebrows. “Suddenly you want to hear about my theories? Very well.” There’s a pause, and when he next speaks, Lucifer’s voice is more grave. “That new police lieutenant. You know the one, all muscly and broody. We know him.”

Amenadiel balls his hands into fists. “Luci, who is he?”

When Lucifer looks at Amenadiel, there’s a mixture between rage and what Amenadiel can only describe as fear in them. “He’s Cain. And I know he is somehow responsible for what is happening to me.”

Lucifer tries calling after him, but Amenadiel has already stormed out.

****

Amenadiel finds Cain in the garage under the police station, about to get into his car. He doesn’t get far before Amenadiel smashes him into the wall.

When Amenadiel has one of Maze’s daggers up to Cain’s temple, he knows how easy it would be to just go with the anger and ignore the self-hatred he feels after what he has done (he has saved his brother, but at what price). Just kill Cain and be done with it, sealing his fate as the fallen angel, the one who defied God’s laws.

Cain is grinning at him like a complete maniac, and Amenadiel still doesn’t even know what he wanted, why he poisoned Lucifer with the signs of his divinity. But right this moment, he doesn’t care, the image of his brother (the one person he might love most in the universe, no matter what he’d like to tell himself) on the brink of death etched freshly into his mind.

“So you want to kill me, little angel? Or actually, you don’t deserve that title anymore, do you?”

Amenadiel tightens the grip he has around Cain’s neck. He might not have his powers back, but Cain lacks supernatural strength, and Amenadiel can easily hold him in place. The world’s first murderer, at his mercy.

Amenadiel growls. “Why?”

Cain doesn’t even pretend to not know what Amenadiel is talking about. The crazy glint in his eyes only grows brighter. “Lucifer isn’t the only one mistreated by God, you know. Condemned for all eternity for one little misstep.”

Amenadiel feels the dagger tremble in his hand, and Cain clearly notices. He goes very still. But then he keeps talking.

“I could have broken out of this, with his help. Me and my brother, Abel. You would know about brotherly feelings, wouldn’t you?” Cain’s grin is even wider now, teetering on the edge, almost a devilish grimace.

Even though he is trying hard not to be affected by Cain’s words, Amenadiel’s voice sounds hoarse when he speaks. “Me and Lucifer are nothing like you and Abel.”

Cain tuts. “Aren’t you, now? Don’t even pretend you haven’t thought about murdering him a million times.”

“And that’s why you tried to _kill Lucifer_? To prove some sort of twisted point about brotherly love?” Amenadiel hears his own voice break at the end of the question.

And for the first time, Cain looks unsettled. “What? I didn’t try to kill him. I tried to drive him over the edge, make him murder my brother and free me of the endless duty to do so. And start a war against God in the process.”

“Well, guess what, you almost killed him,” Amenadiel growls.

Cain looks almost pensieve, and his facial expression doesn’t match the situation he is in at all, pinned to the wall by Amenadiel, inches from what might be a very painful death. It would be almost funny, if Amenadiel in any way felt like laughing. “I suppose maybe your old man interfered with my plans then. Or I didn’t take into account how much he really hated those wings – he might have poinsoned himself, you know, through pure self-hatred.”

Amenadiel feels himself deflate, and he almost lowers Cain back down to the floor, but then there’s that grin again, and that glint. “Your brother is a complete mess. What a fuck-up. Why do you even waste your time on someone as pathetic as that?”

And Amenadiel knows that Cain is just trying to provoke him – maybe now he wants to escape eternal earthly damnation by being killed by an angel (if only Amenadiel still were one). But his hand seems to tilt of its own accord, and there’s a little blood at Cain’s temple, and if Amenadiel doesn’t stop now –

Suddenly, Cain is gone from his grip, and after a moment of utter confusion Amenadiel realises that Lucifer is there, and he has Cain down on the ground, and he’s standing over him, and Amenadiel wants to yell, to stop him from killing Cain. Lucifer’s eyes look very bright in the cold light of the garage, and Amenadiel thinks that he might be even scarier this way, without his devil’s face. But then his brother just kicks Cain in the head, and clearly, there’s no lethal force involved. Cain’s head snaps back and he lies still.

When Lucifer looks up at Amenadiel, chest heaving and the shirt he clearly only hastily put on dark with sweat, there’s a warning in his eyes.

“I thought you really wanted those tacky wings of yours back, brother? Better not go around killing people and immortal beings on my account then, don’t you think?”

****

When all is said and done, Lucifer looks deeply exhausted. Cain is in prison, and of course it’s only a temporary solution, both Amenadiel and Lucifer know it. But clearly, his brother can’t plan further ahead right now.

Lucifer is walking unsteadily, and by the time they reach the apartment, he is leaning heavily on Amenadiel, all the while trying to conceal how weak he really is. When Amenadiel only just grabs him by the arm on the way up to prevent his brother from unceremoniously crumpling to the floor once more, Lucifer gives him a flirty look and raises his other hand to Amenadiel’s cheek.

“Craving some more physical contact, brother?”

Amenadiel just sighs and rolls his eyes, but he can’t pretend he doesn’t enjoy how intimate Lucifer’s gesture is. Then again, maybe for his brother, it really isn’t – given how many strangers he showers with affection in the most physical way possible. At the thought, Amenadiel grabs Lucifer’s hand a bit more roughly than he intended and guides it back down.

For a moment, Lucifer looks almost hurt, but then his mask slips back into place and he tuts and shakes his head. “Always such a prude, brother.”

When they step out of the elevator, Lucifer immediately walks over to the bar, leans on the counter and pours them both a drink. Amenadiel doesn’t have it in himself to tell Lucifer he shouldn’t drink that much, not tonight. Obviously, the drink doesn’t really seem to harm his brother either way. But it’s not like Lucifer and Amenadiel both don’t realise that Lucifer imitates human behaviour when he drinks, and that he craves the alcohol when he’s on edge, unsettled, and when he wants to forget. And one of those days, if he keeps trying that hard, Lucifer might just manage to do actual damage his supernatural physiology. But tonight, Amenadiel lets him, the image of his brother almost dying in his arms too fresh in his mind to object to some escapism.

It’s not like he doesn’t crave some, himself. Amenadiel takes his own glass and relishes the burn as the liquid travels down his throat.

For while, the brothers don’t speak, and the silence isn’t heavy; it’s companionable and easy, the way things used to be, between them, back before Lucifer started his war on heaven. Amenadiel shakes his head a little, trying to banish the thought. Not now – now’s no time for bitterness, but for celebration.

And sure enough, Lucifer smiles at him, and it’s as if the room lit up. Amenadiel thinks it might have been a while since he last saw Lucifer smile that way, nothing dark or burdened in it.

“They’re gone now, brother. They are really gone. And I couldn’t have done it without you.”

With a sinking feeling, Amenadiel realises his brother is talking about the wings. He casts his eyes down.

“You would have deserved them, you know. The real deal, not this mockery Cain somehow managed to give you.”

After the merest second, Amenadiel realises with a jolt what he just said, and looks up, expecting fury on Lucifer’s face. But instead, there’s something soft and sad in the tilt of his lips, the faint wrinkles around his eyes. “You never could understand me, could you, brother?”

But Amenadiel does understand Lucifer, maybe now better than ever. He thought he was the one who had to protect his younger brother – but it seems that Lucifer has to protect him just as much.

And maybe, just maybe, with the two of them together, each will get what he wants in the end, Amenadiel thinks hopefully. Or if not what he wants, then at least what he deserves. After all and in a strange way, if Lucifer keeps on carving out pieces of himself while Amenadiel desperately craves things to make him feel whole again, they are a good match. As good a match as two misguided angels can be, at least.

When Amenadiel doesn’t answer but instead just puts his hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, his brother looks down at it in confusion or surprise for one moment, but he doesn’t shake it off.


End file.
